


A Doorman Who High-Fives Children of Divorce

by allmilhouse



Category: Documentary Now! (TV 2015)
Genre: 70s coffee so watery and gray, F/M, First Dates, breakfast date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25139566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmilhouse/pseuds/allmilhouse
Summary: "Would you like to go out socially?"Donna's first date with Robbie the doorman, after the events of Co-op: The Musical
Relationships: Donna/Robbie
Kudos: 1





	A Doorman Who High-Fives Children of Divorce

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in love with the idea of lonely older people finding love. That, and Paula Pell. Title from a Stefon sketch

They met for breakfast, early in the morning, before Robbie’s shift started. There was a small coffee shop just around the corner, and Donna waited outside nervously, shivering in the late December wind. 

"Goddammit, Donna," she said quietly to herself, balling her fists. When she'd left Ron's apartment yesterday, in a fit of anger and self-advocacy, she didn't know what she should or would do next. Finding out who she was seemed important. Defining herself outside of her relationships with men, so she had something stable to lean on instead of picking up the pieces on the lonely morning afters. 

So naturally here she was, on a date with a man. 

But Robbie seemed different! They talked for what felt like hours on that elevator, greeting neighbors on every floor but always returning to that fun back-and-forth they'd developed. He was an angry guy, but she could relate. He was passionate, and spoke his mind, and honestly was the furthest thing from Ron's smooth demeanor. And so what if he was a little unrefined? A life chasing after sophisticated men left her behind in the slush. 

"Ugh, this goddamn snow's everywhere." She turned at the gruff voice, and saw Robbie trudging up the sidewalk. His coat was rumpled and he was frowning, but he brightened when he saw her waiting. "Donna! You haven't been waiting too long? That fucking subway-" 

"No, I just got here," she said, swiftly interrupting. "Ready?"

He held the door for her like a gentleman, making her feel important. There was a warmth to his smile, a little crinkle around his eyes that showed it was genuine, and that he wasn’t just doing his job here.

They shed their coats and settled in a cheap vinyl booth that squeaked with every movement. Robbie passed her a heavy plastic menu before disappearing behind his own. "They do a good poached egg here," he said, more to himself than anything.

His fingers drum along the edges of the menu, a nervous tick he can’t quite hide from her. It reassures her, knowing he’s a little scared too. She has a lot riding on this date, on the first morning of her new, independent life, but she feels safer seeing him off his game too. As if he’s going to try with her, put some effort in, and not treat her like she’s some kind of easy score. 

A tired waitress passes by, filling their coffee cups. Donna hurriedly flips through the menu, deciding impulsively on flapjacks. Impulsiveness led her to this date, and it hadn’t steered her wrong yet, she reasoned. 

Menus gone, and she looks again at Robbie’s face, maybe not the handsomest on the block, but sincere enough. He smiles nervously back at her, unsure where to begin.

“So, how was your evening?” he tries, his face instantly falling. “Dumb question, I know. Sorry-”

“It’s fine.” She paused though, afraid to be honest. “I packed up a few things, stuff Ro- stuff left behind, I guess. Stuff I don’t need around anymore.”

“Oh, that’s, that’s nice.” He looks unsure again, stirring up some sympathy deep in her chest. “I’m sorry, I don't mean to pry or anything.” 

“You’re fine. What did you do last night?”

“Worked late, then came home and watched the basketball game.”

“How was it?” she pounces on the neutral topic, watching Robbie relax as they discussed the Knicks’ playoff chances. That angry spark returned to his eyes as he went off on the refs, and she studies him again. Somehow his grumpy demeanor was comforting. Maybe because it was the furthest thing from Ron, who she couldn’t imagine getting riled up over anything as trivial as a botched foul call. He was always so cool and collected, to the point where she never truly knew how he felt about her. Did he even care, when she walked out yesterday? 

The food came then, interrupting her train of thought and Robbie’s tangent, and it was a nice distraction. They busied themselves with napkins and condiments and little _”oh, that looks good!”_ s. 

After a few bites, that shy look came over Robbie’s face again, his fingers shaking just enough to keep from slicing his sausage. “Look, I’m not good with women, so I’m just gonna be honest here. Is this ok? I know it’s not much and all, a classy lady like you-”

She reaches out to still his hand, firmly interrupting him. "I called out my shitty lover in front of a bunch of his cokehead neighbors. This is, by far, more than I deserve right now.” She didn’t mean to say it so bluntly, especially considering how deftly Robbie had avoided the subject so far. They both look away, and she pulls her hand back a little sadly. 

They slip into an awkward silence, punctuated by the server stopping by to refill their gray coffee. It remained steaming and watery no matter how much cream she added. 

“You weren’t the first. With Ron, I mean,” he says, offhandedly but not unkindly.

She was too shocked to be offended. “You mean there were other women?”

“Yeah, he was always running around on the missus. From the day they moved in.” He says it so casually that it takes a moment so sink in.

“So, you knew? You knew about me, with Ron?” She’s afraid to meet his eyes, but when she finally looks up he’s smiling at her.

“Honey, I know about every affair in the whole building. No one ever thinks to sneak around the doorman.” He picks up his fork again, pushing his steak and eggs around, suddenly shy. “Besides, I could tell you were different. You have a, like a dignity about you.”

“Some dignity,” she snorts. “I wasted months on that bastard.”

“I don’t blame you. He can wear the hell out of a turtleneck.”

They laugh again, the awkwardness melting into something nice, something familiar. The conversation drifts back to less personal topics, the tone shifting from _first date jitters_ to _friends catching up_. And it seems like no time at all before Robbie checks his watch and curses at the time. 

“Shit I’m gonna be late!” He signals the waitress, sounding frustrated. “I was having such a nice time with you, I’m sorry I’ve got to take off.”

“Me too. But I understand.” This part was routine for her, the man dashing off just as she was beginning to enjoy herself. But Robbie seemed genuine in his regret. She wanted to believe him, because she also didn’t want this to end. 

“Can I walk you to the subway? Or a cab?” 

She smiles at his simple gesture, something that rat bastard Ron never did. “Mind if I walk back to the co-op with you?”

He offers his hand to help her out of the booth, and holds her coat for her. She gets her hat and scarf adjusted as he pays the bill at the counter, smiling again when he turns back to her. “Ready?”

“After you, miss.”

They pass by a newsstand on the way back, and Robbie grabs a couple of the tabloids.

“Keeps me busy,” he explains. “Gotta compare sports sections, check the forecast. Sometimes I try the crossword.”

She falters, stumbling slightly but recovering gracefully, turning back to him with a small smile. “What are you doing tonight?"

He frowns in thought, each line in his face telling a story, and she has the sudden urge to hear every last one.

"Working til 7," he finally answers.

"Dinner plans?"

"No."

She feels coy suddenly, and hopes she can chalk up her red cheeks to the blustery weather. "Would you want to come over for dinner? I could cook something.”

“I would like that very much,” he says, and her heart starts beating like she’s a goddamn teenager again but she doesn’t care. He leans in, kissing her softly on the cheek, a brush of warmth against chilled skin. And then he’s off, with a polite little wave.

She watches him head towards the building, high-fiving that little Klein brat on the way in.

“You can’t ruin my day today, Adam, I’ve got a date!”

The kid yells something back, and she turns away as she hears him shout “What did you say to me you little bastard?”. 

She walks back to the subway station, ready to head home. But she walks with her head held high, smiling at the winter sun breaking weakly through the clouds.


End file.
